


You Are My Sunshine [Epilogue]

by nerdylittledude



Series: Ugly Sweater !Verse [21]
Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdylittledude/pseuds/nerdylittledude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year's brings new beginnings, and fireworks have got nothing on Cas' smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's an air of finality here that makes me tremble as I write this. For a year, my time has been classified either as "writing USV" or "the brief lapses of time in between writing USV." It's surreal to think that it's finally done, ribbon tied around it with a bow, never to be updated again.
> 
> Thanks enough could never be given to my friend Jayne, who's been around since USV was only a few months old, just learning to walk. Without her, I'd have never come up with half of this, and I surely wouldn't have had the encouragement needed to reach the end. There are not too many friends who you can call at one in the morning and say, "This is an emergency! Please help me come up with a sex position for these two men!"
> 
> And thanks to you, reader, if you've stuck with Ugly Sweater 'Verse until the very end.
> 
> Happy New Year's, everyone.

**Six Years Later**

“You know, normal kids ask for _presents_ for Christmas,” Dean says, exasperated, running a hand through hair that now features the occasional strand of gray amongst the sandy brown. This sentiment is expressed between sips of imaginary tea from a teacup that is slightly too expensive for an 11-year-old, but whatever. Dean’s not exactly one to hold back when it comes to his daughter. He’s just happy that she still likes to play pretend even though she’s – Jesus _Christ_ – two years away from being a teenager. Better still, he’s just happy she still wants to play pretend with _him_. He’s spent countless afternoons here in the treehouse he and Cas built with their own hands, engaging in games of make-believe. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when those days end.

Lyric fixes Dean with a _look_ , eyebrows raised, both hands on her hips. There’s so much of himself in her expression that Dean wants to laugh.

“Normal kids don’t have the most stubborn guy in the world for a papa,” she retorts with a huff, dramatically rolling her eyes.

This time, Dean does laugh.

“You sound like your dad,” Dean says with a quirk of his lips and fondness in his eyes.

Lyric, full of the sort of righteous indignation only 11-year-olds such as herself can muster up, crosses her arms across her chest, glaring in a way that really _does_ resemble Cas. It’s not so much compelling as it is cute; Lyric is short for her age, and it’s comical to see so much attitude from someone so small.

“It’s all I want for Christmas, Papa,” she says with a sigh, glare fading into a resigned puppy face that melts Dean’s heart. He’s not sure if she learned that from Sam or Cas, but he rues the day she mastered it.

She leaves after that, footsteps on the wooden ladder of the treehouse sounding loud in her absence. Dean’s left alone holding an empty teacup, slouched against one wooden wall of the structure. He lets his head fall gently back and he closes his eyes, breathing in the cold December air. Lyric has been asking for this for years now, but always playfully, never with any real conviction. Dean figures the change is because she’s eleven now and fancies herself all grown up. The idea makes his heart ache a little, though, so he tucks it aside to be looked over again years from now, when she’s getting ready for prom.

He stays there for a long time, eyes closed, contemplating Lyric’s request. He wonders if this is the year he’ll finally do it. It scares him in the way that his retired guns and stray gray hairs scare him sometimes in the middle of the night when he lies awake thinking about his life. But these nights come few and far between, now, and Cas always gently brings him back to the here and now with quiet whispers and gentle kisses, and these things scare him less than they ever have. Seven years he’s been with Cas, six they’ve had Lyric. He tosses the idea around in his mind over and over until the sun has set and Cas is calling him in for dinner.

Once Dean is inside, he tugs Cas into the pantry by his stupid, adorable Christmas apron and shuts the door so he can kiss him hard without earning an _“ew!”_ from Lyric. Much as Dean loves her, she’s definitely limited the amount of time Dean spends with his tongue in Cas’ mouth. Dean’s used to it by now, though, and he’s long since discovered the many places in their house where he can pull Cas away and kiss him senseless. It helps that their hours as owners of the diner they were once only employees at lend themselves accommodatingly to frequent sessions of hardcore sex. Dean couldn’t be more grateful that they have long stretches of time alone together while Lyric’s at school.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, smiling once their mouths part. Dean can’t help but grin; years and years later, Cas’ smile still makes him feel all silly and stupid like a scene from a chickflick. He has told Cas this only once, in a letter he wrote one night three years ago when they were fighting so bad Cas booked a motel room for three days, even though they have a spare bedroom on the first floor.

The makeup sex was awesome.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Dean says, sliding his arms around Cas’ waist and drawing him close. Cas makes a tiny contented sound and closes his eyes as Dean presses short kisses to his neck, letting his head roll back for a moment. He sighs deeply a moment later and pulls back, fixing Dean with a fond and sort of wistful look.

“I already told Lyric to wash up for dinner,” he tells Dean, who echoes Cas’ sigh and lets his grip on Cas fall slack. Cas brings his lips to Dean’s ear, smile playing at his lips.

“We’ll sleep in the guest bedroom downstairs tonight,” Cas whispers, which is code for _tonight you are getting laid, Dean Winchester._ Dean still kinda wishes Cas could bend him over right here and have his way with him, but the promise is enough to sate him for now. They’ve got a kid, after all.

Reluctantly, Dean allows Cas to draw them away from the pantry and into the kitchen, where the tantalizing smell of food hangs heavy in the air. Dean pulls out plates and Cas pulls out cups and silverware and they serve dinner. Every now and then they have sit-down dinners at their long dining room table, but more often than not they bring their plates into the living room and eat on the couches because, well, old habits die hard.

Lyric’s in there watching the Discovery Channel, of all things, because she’s always been a kind of odd kid and she’s into stuff like that. Dean’s pretty sure that’s directly related to Cas, ‘cause Cas is obviously kind of odd himself. Dean has always found it endearing in Cas; in Lyric, it’s equally adorable. She lights up when she sees food, rushing to hug Cas, because he’s obviously the one who made it. Dinner is never courtesy of Dean unless it’s macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets or takeout.

They all settle into their couch and Dean and Lyric kick their feet up on the coffee table, much to Cas’ disapproval. Dean’s not one to deny himself simple pleasures, though, and he won that argument years ago. They settled on a cheap but sturdy coffee table to suit the need, even though they could easily afford a better one now. They keep it close enough to the couch that Lyric can prop her feet up, too.

“Is Uncle Gabe coming for Christmas this year?” Lyric asks after a bite of her burger, with a slight tilt of her head that is entirely _Cas_. Dean groans.

“I hope not,” he mutters, earning a glare from both his boyfriend and his daughter.

“I don’t know, _Aaan_ ,” Cas replies, using his Enochian pet name for her; he’s been teaching her the language of angels since she was small. “It is hard to tell with Gabriel.”

“He likes to show up unannounced,” Dean adds bitterly, remembering the last extremely inopportune time the stupid angel decided to show his face. Dean’s only into orgasm denial when it’s _planned_ , and a surprise visit from his least favorite relative was not exactly how he’d intended to finish the night. Cas turns slightly pink at Dean’s comment and he’s clearly remembering the scene, too. Lyric looks curious but doesn’t say anything; she’s accustomed to their silent conversations and has given up trying to decode them.

“I hope so,” she says, and Dean can’t really blame her. She and Gabe get along swimmingly, particularly because he always comes bearing candy and presents. He likes to make fun of Dean and Cas behind their backs and bend reality in tiny ways for her amusement.

“Everyone else will be here,” Cas says, running a hand through her hair. “We’re spending Christmas here this year. Sam and Sarah, Bobby and Jody – and your cousins, of course.”

Lyric’s eyes light up.

“The twins!” she exclaims excitedly. Lyric dotes on the two identical four-year-olds, John and Rob, with all the enthusiasm of a child with a new puppy. She’s always asking for them when they’re gone. Dean supposes it has to do with an innate desire for siblings of her own – which, no, not happening ever. One kid is more than enough for him and Cas. She’ll have to be content with the toddlers and Sunshine, because as much as Dean loves her, he doesn’t think he can handle another.

“Yep, you guys can open your presents together,” Dean says, smiling as he pictures the flurry of torn wrapping paper and excited giggles.

“I’m so excited for Christmas,” she says happily, sighing around her next bite of food. She chews thoughtfully and stares at Dean the whole time, making Dean squirm under her laser eyes. She doesn’t speak til she swallows, good kid that she is.

“I hope you got a real good present for Daddy this year,” she says pointedly. Cas wrinkles his brow in confusion, tilting his head at Dean in question. Dean squirms under the combined intensity of both of their stares.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Dean finds himself saying, standing to his feet even though he knows his behavior is probably coming off as weird as hell to Cas. He takes his dish to the kitchen and then grabs his jacket from the coat closet, keys in hand.

“Going for a drive,” Dean says on his way out of the door. He makes sure he waves and smiles so they don’t worry, even if his stomach is in knots. Cas furrows his brow like he doesn’t quite believe him – and after seven years, Dean’s not exactly surprised by it. He drives until the road becomes a blur and the streetlights come few and far between. He thinks about Cas’ blue eyes and his dark messy hair and how his smile isn’t so small anymore. He thinks about Cas’ hands and the food he makes and Dean grips the steering wheel because feelings and choices are so _hard_.

Dean thinks about where his life will be in a year, in five years, in twenty. That’s when he makes the decision, when it comes so clear and so _obvious_ that Dean actually laughs at himself. He’s always going to be by Cas’ side. They’re partners in life, _for_ life, and it’s about time Dean something official about it.

He has no idea where he is when he pulls over and takes out his phone. Sarah is on speed dial and she answers after two rings, and Dean takes a deep breath.

“Dean?” Sarah asks over the line, and he realizes he’s dialed and hasn’t said anything. He swallows.

“Hey Sarah,” he says, and he can practically hear her frowning over the line.

“Are you okay?” she asks, voice full of concern.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling because _okay_ doesn’t even cut it. He’s happy and excited and terrified and he doesn’t know how to convey this over the phone. He decides to just cut to the chase.

“I need you to help me plan my hypothetical New Year’s wedding,” he says in a rush, forcing the words from his mouth.

He has to hold the phone away from his ear because Sarah’s excited screaming might actually blow out his eardrums.

*

When Dean comes back from his drive, armed with epiphany, Cas is curled on the couch with a book, wearing a stupid Snuggie and looking cute as hell. Dean smiles at the sight, heart doing somersaults, and pictures the other man with a ring on his finger. He absently touches his own ring finger, smile broadening into a silly grin despite himself.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, closing the book around his thumb to keep his place.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says before briefly looking around the room. “Where’s Lyric?”

“I just put her to bed,” Cas says, tilting his head. “Don’t you know what time it is?”

Dean’s eyes dart to the large clock that hangs over their fireplace and breathes a guilty sigh. He hadn’t realized how late it’d gotten.

“I’m gonna go say goodnight,” Dean says, and Cas nods. Dean walks up the stairs and takes the first left, quietly opening the door to Lyric’s room. He finds her reading by the light of her nightlight and rolls his eyes and flicks on a lamp. She jumps and looks sheepish, caught up past her bedtime.

“Sorry, Papa – I just had to find out how Harry escaped the Dementor’s kiss,” she says in a rush, and Dean smiles and comes to sit by her bed, running a hand through her sandy brown hair.

“I don’t know anything about your nerdy wizards, Lee, but I figure they’re a pretty good reason to stay up past your bedtime. But no more than 15 minutes, okay?”

Lyric nods. Dean’s trying to figure out how to tell Lyric what he’s decided, but he’s at a loss for words. While he gathers his thoughts, he traces the Lyric’s only two freckles – one at the edge of her lip and one by her ear. She giggles, like she always does when he does this.

“You know what they say about freckles, right?” he asks, and of course she does. They’ve been through it a million times; it’s just a little script they go through, just the two of them. Lyric rolls her eyes but she’s grinning.

“They’re angel kisses,” she says wrinkling her nose when he pokes it gently. “That’s why you’ve got so many, ‘cause Daddy gives you so many kisses.”

“And you’ve got two,” Dean reminds her, and she nods happily.

“One from Daddy and one from my mama,” she says. Lyric doesn’t remember much of her mom, and thankfully seems to have mostly forgotten the fire – but she knows there was once a woman who loved her with all of her heart. Dean and Cas made sure of that. Dean’s comforted by the familiarity of their little exchange and his shoulders relax just the slightest.

“Y’know I love Cas a whole lot, right?” he says, and Lyric nods again, watching him with wide eyes like she’s hoping she knows what he’s about to say.

“Yeah ‘cause you look at him all funny all the time and he looks at you like that, too. That’s why I want you to _marry_ him, Papa.” She sounds exasperated, and Dean laughs, stroking her hair again.

“That’s what I came to tell you,” Dean says, and she practically vibrates with excitement at the words. Dean can tell she’s holding her breath.

“I think your Christmas present is a really good idea, Lee. I’m gonna do it; I’m gonna ask Cas to marry me on Christmas. And… if he says yes, I wanna get married on New Year’s, at midnight. Because Cas is all into holidays like that.”

Lyric flings herself out of bed and throws her tiny arms around Dean’s neck, holding him so tight Dean’s choking a little.

 _“Thank you thank you thank you,”_ Lyric says excitedly, like it’s some kind of personal present, and Dean wonders why he didn’t do this years ago.

*

The more Dean thinks about rings, the less he likes the idea.

Dean is impulsive. He says rash things in anger, he storms out during arguments and he’s still shit at feelings, even though he’s gotten better about them over the years. He can easily picture himself taking off his wedding ring in a show of defiance, only to later regret it. He doesn’t want their commitment to be something he can take off when he wants to. It should be as permanent as the handprint branded in his skin.

An idea strikes him one day when he gets home from work an hour before Cas, because they’ve hired a new chef and Cas doesn’t trust anyone to train him but himself. Dean’s in front of a mirror with his sleeve rolled up, ogling the mark Cas left in hell like he does sometimes when he wants to be awed or turned on or needs to put a situation in perspective. Most problems seem small when compared to a 40 year fight for Dean in hell. It is this moment that gives Dean an idea, and he goes for the bookshelf and grabs a phonebook, flipping the pages until he reaches the _T_ section.

He calls three different places until he finds someone willing to humor his request. It has to be on Christmas, it’s _imperative_ that it’s on Christmas. He’s ecstatic and thanks the man on the other end of the line profusely before hanging up. He wanders out of the room after that and into the living room, where Sunshine’s kept. He picks her up and cradles her in his arms before lying down on the bed facing the ceiling, grinning at the ceiling fan.

He can’t wait ‘til Christmas.

*

At the end of the night on Christmas, once the kids have worn themselves out in their frenzy of present-opening and playing with their gifts and are curled up in bed, Dean pulls Cas away from the small party of family members to kiss him under the mistletoe in their kitchen. Sam and Sarah call from the other room that they’ll be turning in for the night in the guest bedroom, and Bobby and Jody have already left for their hotel room. Thankfully, Gabriel only showed up for an hour or two, just long enough to bestow gifts and pester Dean. Lyric was ecstatic, which is the part that counts, but damn if the guy’s incessant innuendos aren’t trying.

The house feels strangely quiet even though it’s just past nine; everyone’s tired after waking up early with their kids. Dean, to the contrary, is abuzz with fluttering feelings because this is _it._ Dean has probably had more life-defining decisions than most guys, but next to his choice to adopt Lyric, this one has him the most jittery.

… Well, maybe that and the whole Michael-vessel-apocalypse-free-will-whatever thing. But Dean likes to pretend that never happened.

“Dean, you’ve been acting strangely,” Cas points out as they hold each other under the mistletoe, and _goddamn_ if Cas doesn’t know him well.

“Yeah I have,” Dean says, unable to fight a wide grin. Cas seems surprised that Dean admitted to it with such ease.

“Will you tell me why?” Cas asks, head tilted in confusion.

“I’ll show you,” Dean says, heart hammering against his ribcage. “Come with me.”

Cas doesn’t ask any further questions, just allows himself to be led by the hand to the coat closet. Dean helps Cas into his trench coat – which he _still_ has, because he stubbornly refuses to replace it – before putting on his own jacket.

“Race you to the car,” Dean says on a whim, and Cas stares at him like he’s crazy. Dean darts off to the door and after a moment Cas just goes with it, chasing after him. Snow is falling in light flurries, which makes all this that much better. Cas catches up with him outside and grabs his hand, squeezing it before he gets into the passenger side of the car.

Dean loves that while Cas is curious, he doesn’t implore Dean for details. He likes surprises, and Dean’s grateful for it. They drive for a long while and Dean trusts that Cas has no idea where they’re going, especially in the dark. He’s headed for a specific place in Philadelphia. He debated between this place and a nice restaurant, but in the end he decided he wanted a place with no pretense and no audience. The light falling of snow makes it that much better; it’ll be covered in a faint brush of white by the time they get there.

When they’re about five minutes from their destination, Dean stops the car and asks Cas to put on a blindfold. Cas raises his eyebrows in question but makes no further comment before turning his head so that Dean can tie the dark fabric around his eyes. Then Dean drives the steep incline to where he’s taking Cas.

He parks the car and circles it to open the door for Cas. He leads his boyfriend by both hands and then stands behind him and removes the blindfold. Cas’ smile is big and his eyes are happy when he looks around, and then looks at Dean.

They’re at the upper plat of Belmont Plateau, which features a breathtaking, endless view of the city skyline. In the dark, the lights of so many skyscrapers shine like stars across the wide horizon. Around them the world is slowly but surely turning white, wide expanses of grass and trees blanketed in snow. Their breath comes out in little puffs of cold air, like white smoke in the night, and they are completely alone in all-encompassing quiet.

“Merry Christmas, Cas,” Dean whispers in Cas’ ear. Cas turns around and wraps his arms around Dean’s neck, smiling wide in a way that years ago, he never could have.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas whispers back, gently resting his forehead against Dean’s.

Dean’s heart _thunders_ , so fierce and loud that Dean wonders if Cas can hear it in light of all the silence, and he feels his mouth go dry. He closes his eyes as he takes several steadying breaths, and can feel Cas’ confused eyes on him. Dean’s never felt such an overwhelming combination of fear and excitement.

Finally, he bends on one knee and takes Cas’ hand.

“Dean,” Cas chokes out, mouth falling open, eyes wide. Dean kisses Cas’ hand and takes one last deep breath before he speaks.

“You know I’m not good with words,” he says, voice trembling and _goddamn_ , is he seriously about to cry? “I’ve never been… y’know. Romance isn’t exactly my forte. But I love you, Cas. More than I ever thought I could love another person.”

 “I love you too, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean is comforted by the way Cas’ voice breaks, because that means Dean’s not alone in the whole about-to-cry thing.

“I, uh…” Dean laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair nervously. “I had this all planned out, man. I don’t remember the little speech I made up in my head.”

“It’s okay,” Cas says, hand closing around Dean’s.

“I should just get on with it,” Dean says, laughing again. He looks straight into Cas’ eyes, dark blue like the sky around them, and finally, _finally_ asks.

“Cas, will you marry me?”

Cas blinks several times and then stares at the sky for a moment, rocking slightly on his heels, and for a brief, absurd moment Dean wonders if Cas is about to say no. But his fleeting fear proves to be unfounded, because in the next instant Cas is falling to his knees and hugging Dean hard, so hard they both fall to the ground and dirty their coats with snow and dirt. He kisses Dean with one hand on Dean’s face before he replies.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says, eyes wet with what looks suspiciously like tears.

And if Dean’s eyes are a little wet too, well, no one but Cas is around to see.

*

Cas and Dean hold hands the whole drive, which Cas probably assumes is going to take them home. Dean’s not quite finished with Cas yet, though. Dean thinks it’s hilarious that Cas probably hasn’t even _thought_ about a ring; it like hasn’t even occurred to him. It makes him that much more excited for phase 2 of his proposal.

All the shops on city streets, even the ones typically open late, have their lights off and doors locked for the holiday. All, that is, except one. Cas’ expression when they park in front of the only lit shop on the block is one of intense confusion. He raises an eyebrow at Dean, who just grins and shrugs before climbing out of the car. Cas follows him inside, and the bell over the door rings when they walk in.

There’s a man sitting at the front desk reading a book. He’s in his mid-20s, thin with dyed black hair and skinny jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. His arms are covered in very well executed tattoos.

“You must be Dean,” the man says with an affable smile, dropping the book beside the cash register and walking around to shake his hand.

“And you’re… Simon, right?”

The guy nods.

“And this must be Cas,” he says, appraising Cas with that same easy smile. Cas doesn’t return the smile because he’s clearly very confused, and Cas isn’t one to feign emotion.

“I haven’t explained my idea to him yet,” Dean explains to Simon, whose smile fades just the slightest bit.

“Listen, man, I came out here on Christmas so that you and your fiancé could – ”

“Shh, shh, dude! Let me tell him. I’ll pay you either way,” Dean says quickly, and the guy visibly relaxes.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Simon says, picking up his book as he heads toward the back. “Just come in when you’re done,” he calls.

“I’m confused,” Cas tells Dean blankly. Dean takes Cas’ left hand in his and grips Cas’ ring finger.

“There should be a ring here,” he tells Cas, who looks at his own hand like this is dawning on him just now – which, yeah, probably not too far from the truth. Cas doesn’t say anything, though, just instinctively waits for Dean to continue.

“But, Cas… I’m stupid and impulsive and a ring could come off if I wanted it to. Or they can fall off and slip down drains or get lost and – and when I asked you to marry me, I was saying _forever_. Something permanent. Something as lasting as my skin.”

Cas’ eyes go wide with understanding, and he looks around the room with more clarity than before.

“You want to get commitment tattoos,” Cas says slowly, and Dean rushes to correct any ideas of cheesy name tattoos in hearts inked on lower backs.

“I wanna get matching ring tattoos. A ring that won’t come off. Something symbolic, like…” Dean trails off, because he likes his idea so much he almost doesn’t want to know if it’ll sound dumb when he says it out loud.

“Like?” Cas insists, drawing the rest of the sentence out of Dean.

“Like – like a feather, maybe? Because, I don’t know, you…”

Cas’ expression melts to something fond and clearly moved, and he brings their joined hands to his mouth and kisses Dean’s hand.

“Because you are my wings,” Cas concludes, voice quiet, and Dean lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, because Cas _gets_ it.

“And you’re mine,” Dean says, and he can feel his ears going pink, but he can’t stop grinning. Cas is smiling now, too.

“I can’t think of anything better to have etched on my skin for the rest of my life,” Cas says definitively, and without further ceremony he leads Dean by the hand to the back, where the tattoo artist waits for them.

The slight pain of needles in his skin is nothing compared to the rush of happiness he feels every time he thinks about how his boyfriend of seven years is now officially his _fiancé._

*

Dean and Cas have a habit of making out in the back of the Impala like teenagers, and it’s after a particularly steamy – literally, the windows are fogged up – session of tongue and saliva swapping outside their house do they finally sit back and let the weight of the commitment they’ve made tonight. Cas looks at him with the sort of lazy casualness he only has when he’s been mouth-fucked, a faint smile on his lips.

“When should the ceremony be?” Cas asks, though he’s staring at Dean’s lips with such heat that Dean’s not even sure Cas’ mind is anywhere but the gutter. This would be a great night to take Cas into their bed and fuck him senseless, but Lyric comes into their bed at night sometimes, so they can’t do that anymore. The downstairs guest bedroom, their go-to place for sex, is currently inhabited by Sarah and Sam. He’s debating the pros and cons of just going at it right here in the car.

“Dean? We should choose a date for the ceremony,” Cas says again, bringing Dean out of his thoughts.

“Oh – I had an idea for that. You’re big on holidays, right? Maybe we should have a New Year’s wedding. At midnight, New Year’s Eve.”

Cas, to Dean’s surprise, looks slightly crestfallen.

“So, a year from now, then?” he asks, clearly trying to disguise his disappointment. Dean laughs, startling Cas.

“More like a week from now.”

“That soon?” Cas asks, mouth falling open and brows furrowing. “A week to plan a wedding… I suppose it could be done.”

“It might help that Sarah’s been planning it for like two weeks,” Dean adds offhand.

“Sarah – Sarah, excellent. Dean, you truly have moments of brilliance.”

“Only moments?” Dean asks, feigning offense.

“It’s a recurring phenomenon,” Cas says fondly. Dean’s thinking now is the time to initiate some under-the-shirt action and heat things up a little, but to his dismay Cas is getting up to get out of the car.

“Where are you going?” Dean whines, flopping back on the seat and watching Cas petulantly.

“To wake up Sarah,” Cas responds resolutely. “I have a week to make sure our wedding is perfect.”

Dean laughs to himself alone in the car, examining his fresh and sore tattoo, welcoming the butterflies in his stomach with open arms.

*

It’s no secret that Dean and Cas have a thing for Christmas trees, so it makes sense that the beginning of the rest of their lives would take place in a grove of pine trees. The snow, which has been steadily falling in light flurries since Christmas, creates a decidedly winter feel to the whole forest. Dean and Cas survey the area with Lyric beforehand, walking through the light blanket of snow huddled together as Lyric races ahead of them, tossing snow in the air and flopping herself down in it. The scene encompasses everything they’ve built their relationship off of.

Dean brings frozen lips to Cas’ ear and whispers, “It’s perfect,” cold breath tickling his fiancé’s ear.

“I thought so, too,” Cas says, turning and pressing a soft kiss to Dean’s lips.

From 20 feet away in the middle of the clearing amongst the trees where the altar will be set up, Lyric shouts _“eww!”_ with great enthusiasm, making Dean laugh and roll his eyes before pulling away.

“Married people kiss a lot, Lee!” Dean calls to her. “So basically, that was your fault.” She kicks up some snow, giggles echoing through the grove.

“You _always_ kiss a lot!”

Cas raises his eyebrows and looks at Dean with a slight shrug.

“She does have a point,” he says with a mischievous smile, and he kisses Dean again. They’re interrupted by a snowball to their faces and another burst of giggles.

“Oh, it’s _on_ ,” Dean says, scooping snow and forming a snowball. He chases after Lyric and Cas chases after him. Their impromptu snowball fight goes on until the cold has seeped to their bones and their teeth are chattering too hard to go on.

*

New Year’s Eve sneaks up on Dean, creeping around corners until it announces its presence with fanfare and drums in Dean’s chest. He’s been busy all week at work, training new hosting staff and balancing the restaurant’s finances. Cas has been working short hours because he’s been playing wedding planner with Sarah, leaving Dean to sub in as manager of the cooking staff as well. Dean doesn’t mind, but it does arrest most of his attention in the days leading up to the wedding. When the day finally comes, he’s taken aback. This is _it_.

Dean’s in the kitchen early New Year’s Eve morning pouring himself a cup of coffee when Sarah arrives, leaning against the cabinet.

“So, Dean,” she says, and Dean narrows his eyes suspiciously, because something in her tone has him wary. This is Sarah’s mischievous, _plotting_ tone.

“So, Sarah,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“I was thinking about your tux, and I had this _idea.”_

“Why do I have a feeling I’m not gonna like this idea?” Dean asks, crossing his arms. Sarah smiles wide.

“Oh, you’re gonna hate it. But Cas will love it, so you’re doing it.”

Dean sighs heavily, resigned to his fate, and listens to Sarah explain. She’s right – Dean really, _really_ hates this idea.

*

Their wedding party is small compared to Sam and Sarah’s big blowout. The extent of their friends and family are just the usual – Bobby, Jody, Sarah, Sam and the kids. Still, it’s not like Cas to anything celebratory halfway, and Dean’s excited to see what Cas comes up with for their tiny ceremony. He’s been pretty silent about the whole thing, brushing off all Dean’s inquiries, eager for everything to be a surprise. Two hours before the ceremony, Dean still doesn’t know if he’s taking the Impala or a limousine. All he knows is that he’ll be riding with Sam, Bobby and Lyric, and Cas will be riding with Sarah, Jody and the twins.

They’re following the tradition of not seeing each other all dressed up until the actual ceremony, even if there’s no big bridal dress to unveil and they’ve seen each other in tuxes before. Dean’s allowed to see Lyric, though, who has been bouncing around in her flower girl dress since 8pm, even though the ceremony concludes at midnight, when the new year begins. She looks adorable and almost as excited as Dean. She keeps asking to be picked up and spun around because she likes how the little white dress spins around, and thankfully she’s still small enough that Dean can oblige with ease.

When 10pm rolls around, Sam, Dean and Bobby get ready in the guest room, fastening buttons and tying ties… all save for Dean, who is trying to maintain his dignity as his brother and surrogate father snicker at him over his wedding attire.

“It’s for Cas, okay?” he says, looking anywhere but at them.

“Yeah, we know,” Sam says, unsuccessfully trying to hide a smirk.

“You still look like an idgit,” Bobby says gruffly, not bothering to conceal his amusement.

There’s a knock at the door and then Sarah opens the door, looking beautifully done up in her bridesmaid dress. It’s white and sleeveless, bunched at the top and flows out in a whirl when she walks. It’s accented with a thin black sash around the waist so she’ll match the two groomsmen and Cas. Dean thinks the gorgeous look of her his appropriate for the snowy ceremony, though he’s afraid she’ll freeze in it.

She’s also holding a small bouquet of sunflowers, white daisies and baby’s breath, and as soon as Dean sees it, he understands why Cas chose those flowers, and knows that the decision was Cas’ alone. Sunflowers – _sunshine_. Because Cas is Dean’s sunshine. Dean’s blown away by the tiny detail and makes a note to mention his awe to Cas later.

“You look amazing, Dean,” she says, grinning so hard it’s got to be hurting her face. She crosses the room to hug him, the heels of her white lace boots clicking as she goes, and when she pulls back he sees that her eyes are full of tears. She bats them away, embarrassed, and Dean looks at his feet because he is so not going to start crying, too.

“I look dumb,” he says, going for humor, but Sarah just shakes her head resolutely.

“Don’t listen to these jerks. Anyway – just came to tell you that our rides are here. Wait a minute or two before you go out, so Dean and Cas won’t see each other.” She winks at Sam and Bobby, who clearly know what’s going on more than Dean, and then she’s gone, leaving the three of them alone in the room.

“I’ll get Lyric,” Dean says, and slips out of the room to cross the hall to Lyric’s room. He finds her sitting in front of her toy box with two dolls, mumbling under her breath as she acts out their parts. From what Dean can hear, the dolls are getting married, too. Her puffy white dress flows out around her where she sits, looking like an angel. Dean’s _other_ angel.

“Ready to go, kiddo?” he asks her, and she spins around with a smile on her face. Her eyes go wide when she sees what Dean’s wearing.

“Oh, Papa, Daddy’s gonna _love_ it,” she says, racing over to him – and goddamn, Dean sure as hell hopes so. There is no person on this planet other than Cas he would wear this for. His classic slacks and shoes are no big deal, but what Dean’s wearing in lieu of the rest of the tux has him terrifically embarrassed.

It’s an ugly sweater, the first one Dean has _ever_ worn in the entire course of their relationship, despite how often Cas has asked him to. It’s knit and bright red, and the front features the cheesiest excuse for a tuxedo replica Dean’s ever seen. It’s like those dumb tuxedo shirts teenagers like to wear, but so, so much worse. For one thing, it’s green instead of black, which combines with the red for a very obnoxious, obvious display of “look, Christmas!” There’s a fake bow tie instead of a tie, and the sleeves have Christmas tree decals. All this, coupled with the fact that Sarah has already confirmed that Cas is going the traditional tux route for the wedding, makes Dean feel like a total idiot.

Seeing Lyric’s excitement, though, makes him just the slightest bit more confidant. He leads her by the hand through the hall and Sam and Bobby join him on their way down the stairs. Dean’s not sure what he’s expecting when he opens the front door, but it’s definitely _not_ the two horse-drawn carriages standing at attention on the street in front of their house. His mouth falls open and Lyric hops up and down excitedly. The carriages are the old-fashioned kind, covered with doors on either side so that they can stay warm on their trip – and so Dean can’t get a glimpse of Cas. If he knows Sarah, she’s probably on the window side, blocking Cas’ view of Dean as well.

The brief trip to the pine grove is fun, and Lyric spends most of the time sticking her head as far out the window as Dean will allow, looking at the horses and catching falling snow on her tongue. No one talks much, because Dean’s too damn nervous to start conversation and everyone seems to get that. Everyone but Lyric, that is, who chatters the whole way about Cinderella’s horse-drawn carriage and magic and happily ever after, and how _happy_ she is to finally see her fathers married.

As they near the clearing where the ceremony will take place, Sam explains the way it will be held. The small size of it is a little unorthodox, and the lack of bride further complicated it, but Sarah and Cas managed to come up with a decent gameplan. The carriages will take them to either side of the altar, and the short “processional” will start from there. Sam says the rest will be pretty self-explanatory at that point.

Dean can tell when they’ve arrived first by the lights. He’s not looking out of the window at first, but there’s glimmering in the corner of his eye that catches his attention and then he leans his head out the window. The sight he’s greeted with as the horses trot ever closer makes him lose his breath for a moment. Once he recovers he gives a low whistle. Beside him, Sam, Bobby and Lyric are all squishes up to the windows, too, and clearly they’ve never seen anything like it, either.

Their humble, snowy forest clearing has been transformed into something from a fairytale. The ground is covered in square paper lanterns that provide the only light for the area, so many that it hardly seems dark at all. Hanging by ropes from surrounding trees are little glass jars, each with a candle in it, that glow like bottle fairies. String lights are strung from tree to tree and around the altar itself, which is little more than a construction of long branches and twisting vines that Dean thinks they might have made themselves. The snow gives everything a sort of ethereal glow, and Dean is speechless.

The carriages pull up to either side of the altar, where a man in a tux that Dean recognizes as the young ginger minister that conducted Sam and Sarah’s wedding stands, and Dean’s nerves set in again, heart pounding wildly in his chest like a caged animal, stomach knotting up. The moment is here, and at once it is too soon and long overdue. The door of the carriage on the opposite side of the altar opens and Sam opens theirs. Music plays, and for a moment Dean has no idea from _where_ , but then he spies the top of a stereo hidden in an unlit paper lantern, and doesn’t doubt that Sarah’s got a remote tucked away in their carriage somewhere.

Dean’s relieved that the music playing isn’t the standard _Here Comes the Bride_ tune that most wedding feature, for more than one reason. For one, Cas is not his bride, nor he Cas’, and two – Dean _hates_ that song. Instead, it’s a pretty piano cover of… something familiar, and it takes Dean until Sam and Sarah are halfway to their positions for Dean to realize what it is. When he does, he has to cover his eyes with the palms of his hand for a brief moment because the song playing is _You Are My Sunshine_.

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” he whispers, scarcely audible, because Cas is killing him here. Dean was all set to not cry, and then Cas had to choose this damn song. There are no words to the piano tune, but Dean can hear them clearly in his head, can remember himself singing them sleepily to Cas some mornings when he’s feeling especially sentimental. _You make me happy when skies are grey._

Bobby gives Dean a squeeze on the shoulder and a wink on his way out of his carriage, just as Jody leaves the other one. They join Sarah and Sam on either side, and all that’s left are Lyric and the twins. There’s no actual ring for the boys to bear, but they figured their wedding wouldn’t be complete without the two shaggy-haired kids as part of the ceremony.

“You’re gonna be okay, Papa,” Lyric tells him quietly, planting a kiss on his forehead as she stands, no longer small enough to need carrying the whole way anymore. She throws flowers, and Dean notes with vague amusement that the boys are throwing confetti on the opposite side. Once Lyric has joined the short line of bridesmaids and the twins have joined the groomsmen, it’s Dean and Cas’ turn to walk. His hands feel clammy as he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and steps out. When he looks up, Cas is standing in front of the other carriage, and he’s beautiful.

Cas’ tux is white and his pants and tie are black. It’s tailored to him perfectly, hugging his body in all the right ways. His hair has been styled into elegant spikes, which Dean knows Cas could have never accomplished himself. Dean feels tragically underdressed in comparison, but when he sees the look on Cas’ face, his doubts ease. Cas has one hand clamped over his mouth, eyes wide, and even from here Dean can see that he’s crying. Dean takes another steadying breath and forces himself to walk, and he sees Cas do the same.  They meet in the middle on either side of the young pastor, eyes locked on each other.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, like he’s never been to a wedding before or something, and Dean has to laugh just the slightest bit, smiling all the while.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says.

They both look at the minister then, who raises his hands in a gesture of mock surrender.

“Hey, I didn’t want to interrupt the conversation,” he jokes, earning laughter from the rest of the tiny wedding party, and Dean remembers why he liked the guy all those years ago.

“I think we’re good now,” Dean says, winking at Cas. Cas nods in agreement and the pastor smiles.

“Good. Now, at these things I usually give a big speech about the meaning of love and marriage, about commitment and trials… but you guys are already there, aren’t you? Together, you’ve raised a beautiful little girl. Over all these years, you’ve surely weathered trials and tribulations, but even after fights and butting heads... look where you’ve ended up. Right here, at this altar, ready to pledge yourselves to each other forever. I don’t need to tell you the meaning of marriage, because you’ve been there and back.”

Dean thinks about the weight of the words this man is saying – thinks of how this guy will never know how true it is. It’s crazy to think that the first time they met, Dean stuck a knife in Cas’ chest. Now, nothing in the world could come between them. They endured and averted the apocalypse together, weathered Cas’ descent into humanity and worked through so many of Dean’s issues. It makes sense that they’re here, now; there was never any other option.

He tries not to make a big deal of wiping away the treasonous tear that has slipped down his face.

“That said, I think we should leave you two to your vows, huh? You both can probably say it all better than I can.”

Cas nods and looks at Dean in a quick, silent conversation to ask who should go first. Dean nods at him slightly because he’s still trying to collect himself. Cas nods back and then bites his lip, looking at the ground before looking back at Dean. Their vows aren’t neat and practiced like Sam and Sarah’s; Dean has no idea what Cas is about to say, and vice versa.

“I would go to hell and back for you again, and again, and again. I would fall harder and harder every time. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Dean. I vow to follow you wherever you go and love you as I have always loved you, for the rest of our lives and eternity.”

Dean swallows hard, speechless, cursing the wetness in his eyes. He keeps staring at Cas, though, couldn’t break eye contact for the world.

“My vow is… kind of dumb, I guess,” Dean says with an awkward chuckle, and Cas smiles at him so fondly that Dean almost forgets what he’s saying. He tries again. “Like I said when I proposed, I’m bad with words. I say things I don’t mean and I’m kind of an asshole sometimes. But… you’ve stuck with me, man. You always read between the lines and say what I can’t. I… I vow to try every day to make you as happy as you make me. I vow to let you drive, sometimes, and to try not to hog the covers. Above all, I vow to love you, and only you, forever. Sickness, health, etc etc. I’m yours, man. I love you. And… yeah,” Dean finishes lamely, ears burning with blush and very acute embarrassment.

Dean figures it’s probably against the rules of marriage and stuff to hug each other before the ceremony’s over, but he and Cas were never one for rules, anyway. Cas hugs Dean tight, burying his face in Dean’s neck before he seems to think better of it and steps back, hands falling to his sides. The minister raises his eyebrows and grins.

“Yeah, I had a feeling they could say it better. Let’s finish this thing, shall we? Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Cas nods, eyes fixed on Dean. “I do.”

“And do you, Dean Winchester, take Castiel to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Dean speaks with absolute certainty, nodding resolutely. “I do.”

The minister pauses for a moment, which Dean finds weird, and glances somewhere behind Cas’ head. Then he continues, smiling.

“I now pronounce you partners for life. You may both now kiss your new husband.”

And they do, Dean with a hand on Cas’ face and Cas with a hand behind Dean’s neck. Just then, what sounds like an _explosion_ goes off, and the clearing is lit up with pink for a moment. When Dean looks up at the sky, he realizes why the pastor hesitated – he was waiting ‘til the very end of the New Year’s Eve countdown. The New Year is here, and the sky above them is alive with a frenzy of fireworks to welcome it, colors bursting forth on a canvas of dark sky and endless stars. They kiss again, with a chorus of fireworks bursting above them, and there is a sort of blissful eternity in the moment, something that is truly _magic_ about their first few kisses as married men.

Somehow or another, the kids end up with sparklers and are running around with them, somehow full of energy despite how late it is. It’s far too cold to have the reception out here, and with so few people, it wouldn’t make sense to anyway. The plan is to go out to eat all together at a nice restaurant– but not before _one_ last thing. Sarah calls for their first dance as husbands, and everyone quiets to watch. Dean takes Cas hand and brings Cas close to the center of the clearing. He doesn’t know what song is going to play, but he’s prepared for it to tug at his heartstrings, because it’s Cas who chose it.

Sure enough, Dean has to close his eyes and press his head against Cas’ forehead when the opening notes play. Cas smiles and starts them moving, because Dean has seemingly forgotten to how to dance. Dean can hear Cas singing along under his breath, and he can’t help but join in quiet whispers.

 _“Hey, Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better,”_ they both sing along, nearly inaudible because they’re both awful at singing. Dean remembers the first time he caught Cas singing this to himself, long after he’d explained how his mom used to sing it to him as a lullaby. It was one of a million moments Dean realized just how impossibly in love he is. 

_“Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.”_

Dean’s life has been getting better ever since he let Cas in, and he knows that never in a million years could he have been this happy without Cas. He looks around the snow-dipped forest and chuckles to himself because it’s so _fitting_ that their new life starts here, surrounded by frosty, towering pines.

Because, again… it all started with a tree.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS:  
> There is a Pinterest page for their wedding, but I didn't want to spoil anything for you by linking it at the beginning.
> 
> http://pinterest.com/nerdylittledude/usv-epilogue/


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[bonus drabbles from tumblr]**
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> prompt: hey hey hey what if USV!Cas meets Canon!Cas, and Canon Cas looks at everything that he's missing out on, being with Dean, raising a child, never becoming God, never becoming Emmanuel, never going to Purgatory; and what if Canon!Cas thinks to back when God brought him back after Sam jumped into the cage. At the time, he thought it was a reward, but now, looking back on everything that could be that isn't-he thinks it's a punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **this is not related to USV canon at!!!!**
> 
> just a little what-if scenario because i accidentally more USV

**Castiel**

There are a million questions Castiel could ask of Cas - that's what he's mentally calling this sweater-clad alternate universe version of himself, anyway - when the other man stumbles into the ramshackle abandoned house Castiel and the Winchesters are currently squatting in. A good question, for example, would be to ask why there were two versions of himself in one dimension. Another good question might be to take steps toward solving the problem by asking whether he knew the way back. Instead, Castiel stares Cas, who is clearly not an angel and inexplicably wearing a bright red sweater with a Christmas tree on it, and asks the first thing that comes to mind.

"What's that on your finger?"

Castiel points to the third finger on Cas' left hand. Cas, to his credit, is dealing with seeing his own doppelganger with the same levelheaded grace that Castiel is. Cas looks bewildered, certainly, but lacks the panic that most would have in this situation. Castiel is certain his own expression is probably the same.

Cas responds by flexing his hand and then staring at it, a fond smile creeping onto his face despite the troubling circumstances.

"In lieu of a wedding ring," he says with a smile, and holds up his hand so that Castiel can properly see the feather tattoo inked into the skin on his ring finger, "Dean and I got tattoos."

For some reason, this is far more to take in than anything else about this moment. Castiel struggles to find words, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with confusion. Cas tips his head to the side, brows wrinkled, speculating.

"What year is this in your universe?" Cas asks Castiel. Castiel swallows hard and forces himself to respond.

"2013."

"2013?" Cas echoes, confusion written on his features. He looks around at the dismal setting before looking back at Castiel.

"I don't understand," Cas says slowly, frowning. "Where is Lyric? Where is Dean?"

It's Castiel's turn to frown at his human lookalike.

"Dean and Sam are on a hunt. I assume they will pray to me if they require assistance. I'm not familiar with any 'Lyric'."

Cas goes pale at this and even takes a step backward, as though some unseen force has pushed him. Castiel wonders why this information, of all things, is what sends his double reeling. Castiel himself is still stuck on the symbol etched in the other man's skin, and all that its existence implies.

"Sam is hunting?" Cas all but whispers, and there is clear pain written in his features when Castiel nods. 

"It is the year 2013, Sam Winchester is still hunting and there is no Lyric. Was the apocalypse averted? Was there an apocalypse at all?"

At this, Castiel feels a flicker of pride, and he lets slip the smallest of smiles. 

"It was averted. Sam Winchester sacrificed himself to Lucifer's Cage to end it. A year later, I saved him."

Cas blanches, slowly shaking his head as if to refute the truth that has been handed to him. He takes a seat on the awful, rickety bed that Dean has claimed in this filthy place. Castiel watches himself - or rather, this version of himself, cup his face with his hands in despair. 

"Sam went to hell. Sam never met Sarah," he all but groans, words coming out chopped and pained. "And Dean, during that year?"

Castiel looks at his shoes.

"There was a woman," Castiel starts, but Cas visibly flinches and holds up a hand to stop him.

"In my universe, Sam was spared the cage and I fell. He went back to college and met a woman named Sarah. They have two children. Dean and I... Dean and I realized we were in love. We have adopted a girl named Lyric. She is the light of our lives. We are happy."

Castiel can do nothing but gape. 

He thinks of the day on the clearing when he was killed and resurrected as an angel again, thinks of how the world closed around Sam and disappeared as though the apocalypse had never been a threat. He remembers the ache in Dean's soul and the brother-shaped wound Castiel could never hope to fill. For all of a moment, Castiel had been so hopeful, so grateful to be alive. That had lasted only until Castiel looked into Dean's eyes.

Now, Castiel is hearing of all the things that could have been, the happiness he might have known, and it makes him sick. It is made true now more than ever that it was a punishment to be brought back. There is no worse punishment than knowing what could have been, unable to seize it. Castiel wishes he'd have died that day, so that he might never have had to endure all this time lived so far from its potential. 

"In this universe, my greatest happiness is in the rare moments when Dean gives an honest smile." He pauses for a moment, shaking his head sadly. "I cannot remember the last time I was happy."

*

**Dean**

Dean is embarrassed to admit that he doesn't notice the shapeshifter's presence until the creature's fist connects with his jaw.

"You stupid son of a bitch," it says in a perfect replica of Dean's voice, full of contempt, and Dean assumes a defensive stance, scowling fiercely. Sam is out doing God-knows-what and Cas has been gone for days who-knows-where and Dean is entirely alone in this shithole abandoned house they're holed up in. He has no idea how a shifter found him here or why, but he knows it can't be good.

"I'm not the one wearing someone else's skin," Dean retorts, eyes darting around for a silver knife. The admittedly handsome doppelganger groans and rolls his eyes. 

"I so don't have time for this," it says, pulling a silver knife from his pocket. "Can we do this somewhere inconspicuous? The kid'll get freaked out if I show up at home with new scars."

Dean has no idea what the hell is going on.

"Okay?" he says unsurely, eyes never leaving the would-be shifter as he lifts his shirt and makes a cut with the blade. A line of red blood forms and Dean frowns.

"Well, I'll give. What the hell?" he asks, and the other Dean goes from impatient to pissed again in a flash.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," he says, voice sharp and scathing. Dean notices that this isn't a carbon copy; the other Dean has a scattering of gray hairs and just seems... different, somehow, than the face Dean sees in the mirror.

"Last time I checked, I wasn't the one intruding... on _myself_... how are you here? _Why_ are you here?"

"I'm here because you're a fucking dumbass," the other Dean practically growls. "And the only one who can talk any sense into you apparently has to be... well, you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean bites back sharply, because while this might be a version of himself, he still doesn't like the way the guy is talking to him.

"I'm talking about Cas. I'm talking about the fact that it's 20-fucking-13 and you've spent  _years_  with your head up your ass when you could have been happy. Anyone ever tell you that you're an idiot?"

At this, Dean can't help but laugh, though it comes out as a hollow chuckle that rings empty in the quiet room.

"Didn't you get the memo? Winchesters don't get 'happy'. All we get is pain and -"

"Cut the crap," the other Dean says, "because that's bullshit. I don't have time for your self-loathing whining right now. Transdimensional mojo is a tall order even for Gabriel - especially twice. Dumb bastard should have sent me the first time."

"Gabriel?" Dean asks, confused, but the other Dean just shakes his head.

"No time. I just came to deliver a message: You're in love with Cas. Cas is in love with you. Just go fucking kiss him or something, you're burning years here. Trust me. The sex will be phenomenal and if you get him a cookbook, it'll be the best decision you ever made."

Dean stands staring with his mouth wide open. His doppelganger groans.

"I swear to God, if you spend any time doubting yourself and thinking you don't deserve this - augh, just don't do it, okay? Save yourself the effort. Cas loves you just the way you are. Even the fucked up shit. Guy dragged your ass out of hell. That's kind of a big deal."

 _"Time's up, Dean-o!"_ an irritatingly familiar voice echoes through the room out of nowhere. Dean blinks and the other Dean is gone, just as abruptly as he arrived. He takes a moment to take everything in, to make a decision. For once, he thinks he's going to listen to himself.

He bows his head and prays for his angel so he can do exactly that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're on tumblr, [this tag](http://tumblr.com/tagged/ugly+sweater+verse) is where you'll find any/all USV-related stuff most efficiently. Also, you're more than welcome to leave prompts and questions in my inbox or in AO3/LJ comments! Can't promise I'll take them, but I will say that I'll always have a soft spot for USV.


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